The Essay
by Ciircee
Summary: Harry's summer essay. Good old sap and cheese. You can find the font-enriched version at my website.


The Essay2

Diclaimers: Harry Potter et.all are the property of J.K. Rowling and the various and sundry book companies. I'm broke so please don't sue me. 

Notes: Seriously un-beta'd, so it potentially sucks. 

Dedications: To everybody who has offered me feedback and to Chelle, who honestly didn't have time to beta. Thanks a million, tsuin.

The Essay

"Here!" Harry gracelessly shoved the small roll of parchment into Molly Weasley's hands. "I wrote this for you and Mr. Weasley…to say…thanks and stuff."

"Thank you for what, Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, untying the ribbon that bound the scroll.

"The…the new clock hand, the one with my name on it… and everything." Harry shrugged, nervously. "You know."

"I didn't know you noticed." Mr. Weasley said, surprised. "It's not a big thing. Not for such a long thank-you." He added, eyeing the parchment. 

Harry blushed and fidgeted. "It's not just a thank-you." He muttered. "Dudley had this thing on the refrigerator at the Dursley's and it was about…" Harry's voice trailed off. He shifted from foot to foot. "ANYhow…it got me thinking and so I…I…" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley eyed him as he stammered and looked ready to have an apoplectic fit. "I have to go de-gnome the garden now!" And he raced out of the living room and into the backyard.

"Funny." Mr. Weasley mused. "I thought he and Ron and Fred did that this morning."

"They did." From outside they could here Ron being hauled off, protesting, to the garden. It sounded like Harry was hyperventilating.

"Harry--we already did the garden today! The gnomes won't be back until Tuesday!"

"NO! I'm sure there are some here! Enough to keep us busy until dinner time!"

"Harry, what the hell's wrong with you?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "I thought you were going to talk to Ron about his language." It was Mr. Weasley's turn to shift and fidget.

"I was--AM! Right after I finish with those bloo--uh, blooming reports for Fudge." He smiled charmingly at his wife. "What's Harry written then, love?" Mrs. Weasley set aside the ribbon with an exasperated smile at her husband and began to read:

__

My Family:

An Essay by: Harry Potter

My name is Harry Potter and I'm fifteen years old. I'm an orphan because some megalomaniac decided to kill my parents. He tried to kill me, but that failed. Now I'm known as 'The Boy Who Lived' and a lot of people expect a lot of different stuff from me. Mostly they expect me to be some really great wizard and to be perfect and stuff.

My parents were James and Lily Potter and they were once the Head Boy and Head Girl at my school, Hogwarts. My Dad was friends with a werewolf and a convicted killer and a scummy rat. My Mom was…well, I guess she was friends with my Dad and Hermione says that anybody who hangs around with a bunch of boys is very strong and brave. Ron says that Hermione is just fishing for compliments.

When my parents died I went to live with Muggles. They're really, really horrible, and for a long time I didn't even know that I was a wizard. Finding out I was a wizard was one of the very best days of my life, right next to winning the Quidditch House Cup and knocking Professor Snape unconscious. There was another day that was one of the best days of my life, but I didn't know it until a lot later. It was the first day that I went to Hogwarts. And the reason that it was so great is because that's how I met my family. The Weasleys. 

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are great parents for a lot of reasons. Aside from the fact that they have seven kids of their own and the oldest two, Bill and Charlie, have exceedingly cool jobs--curse-breaker and dragon-wrangler. Mrs. Weasley always, even from the first year, knits me a 'Weasley' sweater for Christmas and always sends candy at Easter. She makes me de-gnome the garden with Fred and George and Ron every summer when I come to stay and she scolds me when she thinks I've been doing wrong. Even if I wasn't aware that the pond was full of Dugbogs when I pushed George in and didn't know that Percy's new boss was over for dinner and really didn't mean to use such a bad swear.

Mr. Weasley always tells me the truth and tries to teach me about life. Even when we all thought that Sirius Black wanted to kill me and nobody thought I should know, Mr. Weasley thought that I had a right to know what I was facing. At the Quidditch World Cup last summer (that was soooooo cool) he even told me that 'you should never go for looks alone!' when the Veela were doing their thing. And he was right, because they turned into ugly bird things. And if I judged everything by looks then Snape would be even meaner than he is now. And no, I'm not going to take that back, as it's true.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley do a lot of great things for me, liking picking out really nice dress robes and enchanting a car to fly, and that flying car saved my life at least three times already. They came to watch me in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and stayed with me after and wanted me to come right over this summer instead of going back to Privet Drive with the Dursleys. They even added a hand on the family clock for me and let me say 'Voldemort' around them even if they don't like it. They nag me and punish me and help me beat Ron at chess. They gave me brothers and a ghoul in the attic and a place to call home.

Most of all, they love me. They know that the best parents for me would be my real Mum and Dad, but as they're gone now, the Weasley's are trying to raise me as they think my Mum and Dad might have. And I think that my Mum and Dad would be proud of the man that I'm becoming with the help of my new family. I know that I am. And that's why I'm proud to call the Weasley's my family.

"Oh!" Molly breathed, wiping her eyes. "That sweet, dear boy, Arthur." Mr. Weasley patted his wife's hand, then kissed her knuckles gently.

"He's a fine boy, Molly." He rolled the essay and reached past Mrs. Weasley for the ribbon, slipping it back into place around the parchment. "We'll have to put this with the others."

Molly beamed. "A fabulous idea, dear." She pulled out her wand and held it, tip to tip, with Arthur's. "Carus." She breathed. 

"Foveo." Arthur murmured. Between their wands a small wooden chest took form. A golden key was in the lock and Molly turned it with reverence.

"Here, there's room next to the order forms for the 'Weasley Wizard Wheezes'. Next to Billy's acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Mmm, no. It'd crush the edges."

"There's a space next to Ron's certificate of achievement for that Chess game he played first year. Ulp, no there isn't, his certificate for his Service to the School badge just slid over Percy's job application essay for the Ministry."

"We could squeeze it in next to the scale from the dragon that nearly killed Charlie his first week in Romania. Or next to Ginny's first snuffbox from Transfigurations."

No. I've found the perfect place." Arthur Weasley smiled. And was smiled at in return as Mrs. Weasley placed Harry's essay over a copy of their marriage certificate. 

"Yes, dear. That will do nicely." She smiled, mistily. "All our children in one place."

Arthur smiled too, a gentle smile. "Our Harry. With all his brothers and sisters." He frowned suddenly. "Wait, that essay didn't say a thing about Ginny being like a sister to him, did it?"


End file.
